


If I Recall

by vripsa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (pssst if youre here for daverezi its chapter 3), F/M, M/M, POV Dave Strider, dave doesnt know what feelings are, just character development for the rest of the story, karkat has too many feelings and dont know which are which, the daverezi is only brief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vripsa/pseuds/vripsa
Summary: Dave is suddenly flung onto a meteor hurtling through space with only his sister and a bunch of aliens. Everything goes to shit. He deals with it badly.





	1. Forced Cardiac Arrest is a Cheap Way to Murder

The first time you ever see the trolls, like... really get a good look at them, you realize they look a lot like you. Like regular thirteen year olds. Chubby cheeks, ears too big for their face, awkwardly proportioned across their body. There's no shame in that (specifically because you're the same way). The only notable difference is that they're grey and have horns.

You didn't talk to them much in the first few months you lived on the meteor. Rose was all the company you needed, and you didn't need much. Even today, you don't.

Karkat, their self-proclaimed leader, was obnoxious. Not as pretentious as some of the others, and not even as much of a douchebag, but god was he obnoxious. He was _extremely_ loud, and he always had to let everyone know he was there. Not that anyone needed any reminding. He butted into everything, nosy little bastard, and bossed everyone around at every opportunity he snatched up.

You really don't like him, you decide. But you won't waste any time letting him know.

After a good amount of time into your trip, you all started to get comfortable around each other. Comfortable enough to interact with one another, at least.

Until everyone started killing each other, that is.

That's a little too comfortable for your liking.

Half of your party dropped like flies. All of a sudden, they were just gone. You knew trolls were hardcore, but you never knew a teenager could murder one of their friends in cold blood practically out of nowhere. You hoped the ones that were still alive weren't as violent. Kanaya _did_ kill someone, but you feel it was justified. You liked her just as much as you were wary of her. Wary, by the way. Not scared. Cool kids don't get scared.

A lot of the time, you'd worry about who would be next.

The next never comes.

—

With Rose's fairly new fixation with alcohol, you can barely stand her company anymore. Alcohol itself isn't uncool and you have no problem with it, but it's kind of consuming her life. As sorry as you feel, you've started to ignore her.

In the midst of your lonesomeness, you grow close with the Mayor.

...

In Cantown, the Mayor is scrubbing away the penises you've drawn on the can-people in the streets. You just keep chalking them back on. It's a mess.

You hardly notice someone stepping up behind you until they sit down. No words were said.

You jerk, and your hands defensively come up to your face, balled tight into fists.

Karkat jerks back just as much as you had, barely catching himself on his hand. You scared him, the skittish bastard. Actually, you have no room to talk, so you relax and let you arms fall to your lap.

The Mayor picks up the piece of chalk you threw on accident and puts it back in front of you.

"Jesus, man, calm down. I wasn't trying to kill you," he says harshly, but you can see the tension leave his body as soon as yours does. "For now, at least."

"Well, when you try, don't be cheap and send me into cardiac arrest." You look away from him, pick up your chalk stick, and continue drawing. You don't draw dicks, just more scenery and roads for the new buildings the Mayor has added.

"Oh please, Strider, don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't put my hands on you, even if it meant I could knock you the fuck out and shut you up." You're not looking at him, but you can feel his grumpy stare burning through your temple and straight into your brain. If you weren't such a chill guy, it'd piss you off a tiny bit. But you're chill and chill guys don't have time to be pissed.

"Whatever floats your motorized floating transportation vehicle," you tell him. You've heard him say shit like that before, it must be an Alternian thing, so you try your best to mimic it. How cultured you are.

He falls silent. As much as he likes to blab, he must not fancy talking to you. That's not your problem and you don't care.

The Mayor reaches out and hands the troll a piece of chalk, and he starts to draw after a moment of thinking. You almost want to tell him that this is a thing just for the Mayor and you, but realize that the Mayor was the one who gave him the chalk in the first place. You bite back your remark and decide to save one for later if you ever need it.

The two of you sit in silence and draw for a long time.


	2. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is often lost in thought.

You and Karkat have started spending time together in Cantown quite a bit.

There's never much talking other than not-so-friendly banter. The flighty broad can barely keep his damn mouth shut about your supposed "coolkid façade" and your stupid shades and your stupid cape and your stupid everything.

If he doesn't like you, he can just leave you the fuck alone. It puzzles you why he puts himself through this shit if he hates being near you as much as he implies he does.

But it's not your problem and you still don't give a damn.

Frankly, although his company isn't all that spectacular, he still gives you company and entertains you when you need it. Usually, you two just draw in Cantown, like you're doing now. Occasionally he invites you to watch a movie, but you seldom comply. He's a romance nut. No thanks.

He's been maturing quite a bit from his old bossy and bitchy self, but that doesn't help anything. Nowadays he means what he says. Or it seems like it, at least. He isn't loud just to be loud or a dick just to be a dick. It seems like he's trying to make a point to you. Like sharpening a pencil and digging it into your brain.

The freshly sharpened pencil jams into your skull again.

"Hello? Meteor to fucknuts, are you there? I thought your thinkpan finally, _finally_ turned to grubsauce after all these perigees, and I was waiting for it to leak out. I'm pretty disappointed that it didn't," he says, leaning in close to your face. He kinda spits when he talks. You don't blame him, what with that ridiculous overbite and all.

"Fucknuts to meteor, not looking good. Tell Houston we have a problem for me, will you." You lean away from him before you can get any more spit on your cheek. You wipe off the little beadlets that are already there.

"I think I'll just let you suffocate."

"Thanks, princess. Means a lot to me," you deadpan at him. Man, does he ever give this shit up?

"It wasn't meant to mean anything," he snaps. You audibly hear his teeth click. "As if I'd ever have meaningful conversation with you. I don't know what I even expected! And your stupid fucking human pet names you give me, get my name out of your mouth when you say shit like that..."

You tune him out.

Apparently not.

Eventually, you get tired of listening to worldess  
blather and you interrupt whatever he was ranting about.

"Do you keep a goddamn generator somewhere under that sweater to fuel your vocal cords? I have literally never heard anyone talk so much in my life. I expect you to talk your mouth dry but nope you just fucking keep going. I admire your dedication to fuck with me. But you see, I couldn't give any less of a flying fuck," you say with all honesty. If he ever opens his mouth, it's about how much you supposedly annoy him or make him miserable. You still don't understand why he talks to you if he really feels this way.

Then it makes you wonder if he's lonely, too.

Maybe he's just like this. The two of you don't get along very well, sure, but you don't know each other personally. You just know that his mouth flaps like an old man's asscheeks. The only thing he probably knows about you is that you're a douchebag who isn't good at social interactions. Never needed them. But now you do and you're kind of fucked. But oh well, it's chill. You'll go with the flow.

You literally snap out of your thoughts when he snaps his finger across your cheek.

"Ouch," you say with zero emotion or pain behind it. It felt like nothing but maybe it'll be funny to him.

"Where the fuck do you recede to when you get silent like that? The last thing we need is another wackjob with voices in the back of his head, get the fuck out of there." Not funny, you guess. You thought he'd be pleased by your silences, since he complains about how often you talk anyways, but you thought wrong. It almost seems like he gets more frustrated with you when you're quiet than when your mouth is moving and it won't stop.

You shrug. No clue what to say.

"Dude, why does it matter. I'm quiet, you're angry with me. I'm talking, you're angry with me. Is there _ever_ a time where you're feeling anything other than anger?"

That was not the coolest of outbursts. It was far from the coolest. You're scared that he's going to notice that emotions started leaking out of your mouth like drool when you sleep. You couldn't help it for some ungodly reason, so you mentally punish yourself for a good thirty seconds or so. You can't hear what he's saying overtop the scolding in your head.

Actually, you don't hear him say anything because he doesn't say anything at all.

Karkat just keeps staring at his drawing without continuing it. His eyebrows are so furrowed that they look like they're gonna fucking pierce all the way through his eyes, his cheeks, and fall right off his chin. You occasionally retort so you can hear how ridiculous he is when he goes off on one of his tangents, and he usually jabs right back without hesitation. This time, though, is different. You wonder if the subtle undertone of emotion in your voice had done something.

Okay, who are you kidding. It wasn't subtle at all, nor was it an undertone. Your voice was strained, and if you recall, you were making a face. An upset one. Just to make sure it's not still there, you straighten everything out on your face.

If he wasn't startled by the fact that you have feelings buried deep within your chest, a small little sack of shit underneath your heart, you have no idea what else you could have done to him. You only asked him why he doesn't like you. Maybe he doesn't dislike you and maybe this is just the way that he is. Maybe he's just making a show of being a little bitch because he doesn't know how to get positive attention from someone. Maybe—

"You know what? Fuck you," he murmurs without looking up.

Maybe he _is_ just an ass.

Maybe you _do_ give a damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll find out what's wrong with karkat in the next few chapters and you'll also experience dave having a meltdown over having feelings


	3. Wild Card

Karkat starts to avoid you after what happened in Cantown that day. Not even five minutes of silence before he got up and left without saying anything.

It's very lonely around town now that he's not there.

You don't care. You don't have to care.

You find someone with the same love for shitty chalk drawings as a solution. Terezi Pyrope, the one and only, is a fucking wild card. It's almost too much for you, but she livens everything up. She's good company. Better than Karkat.

She's never silent. She's not an asshole, either. She does tease, but that's it. It's part of her charm.

Today, you and Terezi are drawing on the walls beside Cantown. You're glad that you don't have to scavenge for old pieces of chalk on the floors of the halls. Terezi shares her entire collection with you, and having an array of colors so wide really adds onto your creative genius.

(No, you did _not_ draw a perfect rendition of a penis in full HD color. For sure.)

You add the finishing touches to the baseplates of the drawn statue that you've erected. Terezi looks in your direction. Her nose twitches once, twice, and her face pulls her cheeks up into a toothy grin.

"Why, Strider, what an interesting shade of peach you chose. And the nose-burningly sugary flavor of a gumdrop blends so well," she says, barely concealing a giggle.

When she scoots up and takes a long lick of your artwork — "to examine the piece better" — and smudges a long line across it, you shift uncomfortably where you're kneeling.

You don't know if that was intentional or not. If it was, you want to run. It'd be stupid to run, you little dumbass virgin, but your brain is telling you to get up and flash step away until you disappear forever. Never coming out of your room again.

If it wasn't intentional, then you froze up for no reason.

If you weren't a grungy fifteen year old leaking testosterone all over yourself like a dumbass, you'd be fine right now. But Terezi has a... really long tongue, and she probably knows how to lick things since she's always licking things, and, hey—

"Hey? Coolkid! You there?" she says to you. She leans close enough to bump you with her horns, and she shoves you gently with her shoulder. She's flirting with you.

She's flirting with you and you're gonna die.

God, you haven't felt anything in so long that you don't even know what it feels like. Is this a crush? Is this gross teenage boy lust? What the fuck is it?

Whatever it is, your chest feels too tight and so does your throat and all you can do is look at the badly scribbled and completely smudged dick on the wall.

Terezi was leaning closer to you, your faces nearly touching. She creeps her hand onto your thigh. Look, you'd be hard right now if you weren't terrified. But you're terrified. You don't want to be, you've never felt something enough that you feel it in your chest. You hate this.

You must do something concerning because she yanks her hand away and her nose twitches several times. If trolls can smell fear, you might just cry.

"Dave. I— I scared you, my bad," she says quickly. Her hand grabs yours and her grainy, nasally voice is as comforting as it is grating. You calm down a little.

Before you speak, you take a quick but deep breath. "It's all good, Tez, you just knocked me out of my artistic stupor for a second. It's all good in Cantown. It's chill." You sound like a huge, blubbering moron.

Terezi blinks slowly. You really hope she's not trying to suck your feelings out with her nose. Your shades aren't going to hide your face from her. Man the fuck up, Strider, she's a girl. A girl who's grey and has pointy horns and fangs that could rip you to shreds, but she's still a girl. A really fucking cute girl.

So you gather your senses and pull her close.

—

You're not used to being alone anymore.

So when Terezi starts disappearing, you don't know what to do with yourself.

There's no one to fall back on anymore. Your sister has fallen to her drunken demise, and she's always with Kanaya. They're girlfriends now, and you kind of miss being close to Rose, now that she has someone just as close. But Kanaya doesn't ignore her while she's drunk, so she's already better company than you. As jealous as you are, you're glad Rose has someone to love and that someone loves her like that.

Terezi was almost that person. You don't know where she went, though. The only time you ever see her, she's walking in the halls with her dragon Snuggie® thing covering her face with her head down. You know she can smell you, so she's ignoring you.

It's not your fucking problem. You don't care.

Well, it _wasn't_ your problem. _Until_ you see a juggalo-shaped cryptid dart away from her, and she's limp against the wall.

When you flash step towards her, she looks up, her face a deep teal. Her black lipstick is smeared up to her nose, and there's remnants of white face paint on her cheeks and forehead.

Your chest burns hard and hot.

The feeling deep inside you is too much. Every feeling is still too much, but this is the wave that shattered the crack in the dam. The strong, crashing waves burst through and you started drowning. Your breath started catching like you really _were_ drowning.

Usually, when you have one of your attacks, she holds you and rides through it with you. The waves have never drowned you before. She was the duct tape that was stuck over the hole. You guess duct tape can't last forever. Once that thought crosses your mind, you just let the water fall over you and soak you dead.

She leans up and reaches out for you. To comfort you.

But you're feeling so much that you'll explode if she touches you.

Your mouth opens to say something, your hands come up for an angry gesture, but nothing happens. You freeze for a minute before your hands fall to your sides and you slouch, just staring at her.

Before she can say anything, you turn and float away.

You don't care.

You don't fucking need to care, this isn't your problem.


	4. Things May Currently be Getting Recalled

It's mind-numbingly lonely in the common room nowadays.

Rose and Kanaya are the only two who are ever consistently in here, actually. If you wake up and walk through to get to the kitchen, they're there. Sometimes they make breakfast together. Sometimes, they're passed out on the couch looking content. Almost like they're even together in their dreams. How cute.

You still haven't talked to Rose much. Her drinking may have gotten a bit less frequent, but when she does drink, it's heavy. It makes your throat clench when you see it. You know you're feeling something and you fucking hate it, whatever it is. Sometimes you think about how you want your sister back. You're glad Kanaya has her though, just a little, because you'd get tired of her. Kanaya is patient. You chuckle to yourself.

The only other person who visits more than once a month is another girl. You don't know her well at all; you only know her name is Vriska. She's like you, in the sense that she seems to be fine on her own. Withdrawn, but okay with it. You're glad about that. She's always rubbed you the wrong way. She hasn't done much. You just know that something about her feels so off.

Other than that, the only vibe that Vriska gives off is "sword lesbian". You talk to her because of it. She must not be as much of a fanatic as you. Her face twists in disdain when you show her your SORD....., the one and only.

You two don't talk much. She seems to do just fine on her own. Strange girl.

You kind of hope she'll come around soon because Rose and Kanaya are busy. They're on their husktop watching something. You'd butt in between them like a tool and watch too, but you just don't have the energy right now. You don't have very much of anything right now, really, except for music.

After you told Rose what happened with Terezi, she promised she'd make you something. You didn't expect her to really give you anything because she was piss drunk when you ran to her.

The next time you saw her sober, though, she handed you a pair of headphones. They were a deep crimson, and on the ears were your old sign.

The scratched record from your favorite shirt.

You still use them to this day. You had plain white iPhone earbuds, but those don't compare. You really don't deserve your sister. You ignore her so much. You barely do anything for her. Does Kanaya get tired of her? God, what if Kanaya gets fed up and leaves just like you did? If she leaves, will she disappear like everyone else has?

You snap back to reality. You recall when Karkat flicked your face, and you hope to focus back in and see his eyes, his overbite, his horns that just barely peek out from overtop his rats' nest of hair..

You don't. It was just a bass drop that knocked you out of your brain.

At least you're out of your thoughts now.

Your fingers drum hard against the table to the beat of your music. This wasn't one of the songs you remixed. You like it in its original glory.

Even with the pleasant sounds that you're streaming straight into your brain at full volume, you're horribly restless. It almost feels like the times when your older brother was somewhere in the house, slinking around, waiting for the perfect time to strike. You hate it. That feeling lingers still, years later. You look around for anyone other than Rose and Kanaya frantically. Your throat is clenching. You need someone.

You don't find someone.

You don't mean to make a scene, but you slap the table as you stand up. Your headphones fall off.

Thank god Rose doesn't look up. The earbuds she's sharing block out any sound, apparently. You don't even think to float. Your human insticts kick in and you run down the hall, down another hall, towards your room. It feels like it's a million miles away.

You have to stop and brace yourself against the wall.

What did Terezi do to calm you down?

She held your hands, so you put one of your hands into the other and hold them both to your chest. You press your body against the wall and breathe. You breathe until everything slows down.

When you hear footsteps, you think it's your imagination. That it's a hallucination or a flashback. Your body unfurls and you stretch into a defensive stance.

Karkat turns the corner.

He walks with his eyes trailed on the floor. You suck in a breath through your teeth, and it makes him stumble and look up. You think he squints for a brief moment in time. (You'll go back and check at some point, you think.)

The silence is like a wave of comfort hitting you.

The comfort falters, just slightly, when he starts to talk.

"What the hell are you doing?" It's a soft murmur, the murmur you've heard him use before. Your heart flutters. Maybe it's atrial fibrillation.

"I was just, you know... getting back to my room," you wheeze. He didn't exactly give you enough time to recover from whatever the hell that was. When your brain processes that he's seeing you vulnerable, you feel your pulse light up across your whole body like the way old, dinky Christmas tree lights turn on. The only thing you can do is shove your shades hard against your face and freeze. You don't look up at him.

A scoff burns your ears. The bastard is laughing at you under his breath. It feels like you swallowed an entire smuppet whole, almost exactly like that one time before. That hilariously fucking genius line goes unnoticed, however, because the lump in your throat is making tears prick at your eyes. _Please, don't fucking fall,_ you try to demand of your eyes through telepathy.

Karkat honest to god facepalms and grunts. You hear the slap.

"Get up, you pansy," he says, his soft voice contrasting from that sinister laugh he'd given you. You can't think of anything to snap back at him since your brain is so frazzled, so you slowly stand up, coming back up eye to eye with the troll.

His face is cloaked in the shadows that stretch across the halls, and the tint of your shades make it nearly impossible to see him. Even so, you see his scowl.

"How fucking embarrassing, coolkid," he growls at you as he reaches a hand out. You make a very deliberate show of looking at his hand, looking back up at him, and grimacing. He doesn't like that at all. He squints at you and his lips curl up — like a snarling dog's.

When your grimace breaks and your lips twitch downward, his face softens. Only his eyebrows are furrowed. "Pitiful."

You kind of just sit there and take all of this, you guess, because you're pretty sure he just showed more emotions in thirty seconds than you knew anybody could have. His face is so _expressive._ All his boldness is expressive, really. Just one gesture from this kid can speak a thousand words. For example, that dramatic-ass facepalm from just a moment ago. Drama queen.

The hand you didn't take suddenly grabs you by the front of your hood, and Karkat is walking away. He's pulling you down the hall. You're still kind of floating around in your brain right about now, so you don't know what to do except for follow him.

He talks to you but you don't know what he says. You're staring at the back of his head. His hair is like Terezi's; poofier, softer, but somehow looks so stiff.

You catch Rose looking at you as you float into the common room. She's turned over the couch partially, her left side deadened by a lump of cute, sleepy lesbian. She raises an eyebrow in question.

You shrug back at her.


	5. Maybe I Recall Correctly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat is back and worse than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive written so much of this while i was crazy high im so sorry theres no dave dialogue here it comes mans

Karkat has dragged you down the hall towards his room: "his block," as he calls it. Cultural thing, you suppose.

You honestly hate every minute of this. Maybe he saw your weaknesses and it made his troll instincts ding loud like a toaster or a tornado siren. Maybe he's finally taking up the offer of killing you without using cardiac arrest. What a thoughtful guy.

When you get inside, his room is infinitely messier than you'd expect it to be. Not like you've given much thought to it, but still. He lets you go, and you sliiide to the floor the way a guy in DBZ would gently place himself onto a rock when he's laughing evilly.

"Look, don't thing of this as a _thing,_ okay? You were having a panic attack in the hallway. Tez isn't there to comfort your dumb ass anymore. Did she just give up, or what?" There's so much venom in his voice. It's kind of funny, because while he's talking like a cocky anime antagonist, he's sinking into a messy pile of blankets, pillows, and books. It's hysterical.

"Dude, I absolutely cannot take your insult seriously. You're like a kitten gettin' ready to take a nap." Your voice stays strong and doesn't waver, you made sure it wouldn't, so you could make up for that pussy shit he witnessed back there.

His nose scrunches up. "I'm fucking helping you, bastard. Sit," is all he says. He's reaching through his mound of fabric and pulls out a movie case.

"Pretty odd way to help, but god, Karkitten, I'm so moved. Thanks." You plant your ass beside his pile.

You watch him reach for his crabtop, and he trades discs. Grubs? Whatever trolls use. It's not your problem. He doesn't say anything until the title screen is pulled up, but Jesus crisped onto a stick, the title barely fits on the screen. You can't find the option to hit play.

You see words like pitch, kismesis, vacillation. You barely know what these things mean on their own, and mashing them together in a sixty word sentence doesn't help you. Fuck English teachers that say context helps. Context does jack shit.

Terezi did explain them to you briefly at one point before she disappeared. She just wanted you to know before you ever tried to become serious. Matespritship is sorta just a dating kind of thing. Moirails are bros4life. The two you don't understand are the black and grey ones. That shit ain't romance. That shit's just being a fucking dick. No wonder trolls are so fucked.

Karkat's harsh voice taps you on the ear.

"I know you aren't a fan of romance, which, in my personal opinion, tells me that I shouldn't have even pulled your ass in here in the first place, but listen. I might be helping you just because you looked like such a dunce back there, and if I ever saw you like that again I would projectile vomit some steaming bile. And then die." You just listen to him go on and on.

If you remember correctly, his voice used to be so high. Especially when he spouted off like this, like he couldn't control anything coming out. Now, his voice is smooth and low when he talks softly. You sit on his floor like the dunce he told you you are. It's like his finger hits play in slow motion.

"You're coming on a little strong, there, bro," you tell him.

Karkat puffs up like an angry cat.

"I am not," he breathes, his familiar sharp voice piercing the air. Here it goes again. "I told you I'm just helping you because I can't fucking stand looking at you when you're like that. I want to shove the look off your face." His face is in a pout. Halfway through his little speech, it almost seems like he's talking to himself more than he is to you.

Something lights up in the back of your brain, but you don't quite know what it is. You feel like it's important, but if you can't quite place it, it'll have to wait. Too many thoughts enter your brain at any given moment for you to catch this one and look at it until it makes sense.

His voice drones over the bickering of the trolls onscreen.

"Seeing you upset like that at all is fucking satisfying." Woah, hold on, that throws you for a loop. He just took a swing at your ego, and it's been quite fragile lately.

The thought in the back of your head starts to flicker, like when you turn on an old light bulb, but the thought isn't coming.

"I fucking saw those times you spent with Terezi. It hurts now that she's gone, doesn't it?" he murmurs, exactly like that first time. His voice is dropping the same way it did then. That was a left hook to the jaw of your façade. You feel a piece fall to the floor in your mind.

Karkat doesn't even look at you. His eyes are trained on the screen. They follow the trolls on the screen, just like yours. Said trolls are oddly close together.

"Every single fucking time I see you, you look like it's weighing on you, Strider. I can see how much it shattered you. Sometimes, I want to take my fist and slam that face off your skull. Feels shitty, huh?" He's kicking you down for literally no reason. You are so confused.

"The fuck are you talking to me like this for, huh?" You blurt. No no no, no, you are not having another one of these outbursts here. Not again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the corners of Karkat's lips twitch up. His fangs catch in the light.

You won't look at him. There's an incessant burning in your chest right now. It won't get out. The trolls on the screen duking each other the fuck out isn't helping in the slightest. He pulled you in here, told you he'd help you, almost seemed like he cared in his own fucked up little Karkat way. But no, god no, you recall correctly that he was a god damn _asshole._

"It's because of Terezi, isn't it? Karkat, if that's what you're pissed about, she literally could not give less of a damn. Every single time I see her she's crusted with faygo and wrapped in her snuggie like a fucked up, eleven year old version of an addict. She's out juggalo hunting, Vantas." Your hands twitch at your sides, but you still refuse to look at him.

The way he looks at you makes you feel like you're being devoured. It seems like the way you fight back is edging him on. (Must not have gotten enough attention as a kid. You used to do the same.)

"You'd have no sense of grasping any of this, you mammalian freak. You have royally fucked what she and I had. You royally fucked yourself over, too, dumbass—"

"I didn't fucking do anything to her, she just disappeared one day. Gone. Off the face of this meteor." You blame the pulsing light in your mind that tells you to keep arguing with him. You are so out of your element right now, and out of your god damn mind, too.

"You're lonely, Dave. You're pathetic. What I saw in the hall was utterly pathetic. I know that's what lies behind those shitty, cheap aviators you hide behind," he growls, finally turning in your direction. He leans close to you. His hand nearly lands on your thigh.

The hand isn't soft or curious like Terezi's was. His claws click against his tile floor as his knuckles bump your leg.

"I absolutely loathe your company," he says, and the light in your brain goes supernova as his words weave in tandem with the words on the screen.

You can't beleive it took you this long to realize.

Since day one, he has been such an insufferable cunt. The boy loved to push you over the edge. You just shrugged him off as annoying and would leave when he got to be too much. You didn't like him.

You two spent time together. He knows you, knows more than the thick layer of protection that surrounds what you are. He doesn't just know about that wall; he just knocked a thousand-man army against it and ordered an invasion.

This is what it all meant. Why he was so contradictory before.

This is his fucked up version of _romance_ and he is head over heels.

"You," you begin to say. Your words come out breathy. He squints again, gets that canine look on his face.

"You thought you were subtle. No, you're not subtle, I just didn't understand the hints because, I don't know, you're a fucking alien from space that's flirting with me because he hates my guts. How blatant. But Karkat, I know—" His eyes widen. He is not having it.

"Don't you fucking start psychoanalysing me like your sister. I've had enough of that shit, and if I had to take it from you, I think I'd lose my pan."

"That won't be all you're taking from me, Karkat," you say, voice suddenly flattening out strong. "I'll do whatever I want to you, actually. I'll... _psychoanalyse_ every inch of you." Okay, this is coming from a place deep in your gut. You want to shut up, but this is too fun.

Especially the way you see the color leave his face in surprise. Got him.

"There's no fucking way a human brain can wrap around the concept of kismesissitude, you inept monkey," he snaps, his voice faltering just a tad.

" _So I was right."_

The silence, so unlike any others before, is utterly _deafening._

You keep glancing from him to the screen. Naughty bits are blasted across the surface of the laptop.

Karkat suddenly swipes your shades right off your face, and they hit the floor. It feels like you watch them fall for millenia. He catches you when your eyes are on the screen. When you make eye contact again, he has his bottom lip in his teeth.

You don't know what makes you do it: impulse, hormones, or both, but you ball a fist in his sweater and yank him close.

He squawks, baring his teeth at you as he almost bonks your forehead with his own. You see him lick his lips before they part, and he goes to say something but you cut him off before anything can come out.

"If a good hatefuck is what you want, Karkat, that's what you're going to get. Fuck you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is just fuckin. pure self indulgent porn. its not necessary to read for the story if nsfw isnt your thing but itll be a mess of feelings and will make your heart hurt.  
> also after this is where its less of daves internal monologue and more of things happening outside his fuckin brain


End file.
